


Follow These Instructions

by slightlyjillian



Series: Numbers Alternates [7]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, M/M, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-22
Updated: 2010-07-22
Packaged: 2017-10-10 18:12:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/102620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlyjillian/pseuds/slightlyjillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mafia AU stand-alone. Dorothy's missing. Nichol's gone to find her, but he can't navigate the mafia underground by himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Follow These Instructions

**Author's Note:**

> Not part of [GW Numbers Alt. Universe](http://archiveofourown.org/series/2161) but uses that landscape for navigational purposes. I should admit this is meant to be more fluff than a proper mystery. Yeah, I know... but after a reminder from Alithea, I was determined to get these two together to balance out all the brothers-in-arms stuff I've been writing lately.

So he had one of those lives that routinely dropped into a pattern of failure. Well, events usually started out bright enough. The pretty girl fancied him, but before he could work up the courage to ask her out the popular boys in the school discovered her. He had the prestige of being the up-and-coming person on staff only for the next intern to sway their attention. They never disliked him afterward, but his fingers couldn't hold onto the ledge.

Dorothy had been aware of his rush when he'd put the engagement ring on her finger. "Oh, this must have cost you everything that you have." She had admired the way the street light hit the stone. Truth was, he had only bought it that afternoon and hadn't even taken it out of his pocket.

He had coached himself. _As soon as you see her, Nichol. The very first words that come out of your mouth must be_ "Will you marry me?"

She had been beautiful beyond his imagining when she shook her head, but the answer had been: "_Yes._"

^^^

Nichol stepped out of the cab and looked up at the grand hotel. He didn't mean to stare. The action alone marked him as a tourist, which he was. Nichol had never been to the City before.

"Hey mister." The cab driver got his attention.

"Right, just a moment." Nichol fumbled for his wallet. He turned away from his luggage only to have his arm pulled back around again. Startled, Nichol snapped, "Excuse me?"

"You probably shouldn't neglect these." A man wearing the uniform of the hotel indicated the well-worn suitcase. Nichol still used the set of bags which he'd found in his parents belongings. The travel gear had seen better days. The material was threadbare in places and the edges heavily scuffed beyond repair.

Swallowing his embarrassment, Nichol nodded as if he'd wanted the assistance all along. "Please, I'll only be a moment." But when he turned back to the cab he saw that it was pulling away. He had a clear glimpse of the driver's face which nodded once. "Sure. In that case..." Nichol said, baffled. He put away the wallet after finding a bill he hoped would satisfy the bellhop.

"Thank you, sir," the other man said, smiling as he bent over to collect Nichol's things.

"Sir," Nichol chuckled. "Now there's something I don't get called often. My name's Danechka Nikolai, but most people call me Nichol."

"If you want me to call you that instead."

"Please." Nichol relaxed somewhat. "And if you can navigate me through this place as well. I think I'm going to be here for a while. Might as well get the lay of the land."

"I'd be glad to... Nichol." The brown-haired man tilted his head toward the hotel and led the way.

"What do I call you?" Nichol said, momentarily believing he might actually accomplish what he'd set out to do. He looked for a badge but found nothing.

"Ah, me? I answer to Trowa." The bellhop held the door open. Nichol walked into the refreshing cool of the air conditioning. The foyer alone was larger than the entire complex of apartments where Nichol lived.

"This way." Trowa continued carrying Nichol's things. He followed to the front counter that seemed so well polished he didn't dare put his hands against the shining wood.

"Are you here to visit friends?" The woman asked twice, politely overlooking that Nichol gaped at her perfect make-up and simple, but expensive jewelry.

_If the staff dresses like this they're definitely paid better than I am,_ Nichol thought, but he said, "Not exactly."

"Business or pleasure?" she continued with the innocent but unwanted questions. In the meantime, her manicured nails keyed in his information and exchanged paperwork.

"Both, possibly," Nichol said.

She indicated that he should sign. "Also here." She turned the page. "Do you need transportation? If so we can recommend..."

"I'll make sure he gets looked after, Catherine," the bellhop interrupted. He gave Nichol an accommodating grin when their guest expressed his appreciation.

"So what brought you here?" Catherine asked with final, decisive taps on her keyboard. She smiled in a way that had to be friendly, but Nichol had to collect his nerve before he could answer.

It gave him time to think of something to say. "I came for an adventure."

"Then you're in the right place, Mister... Nikolai," Catherine leaned forward. "That's our specialty."

^^^

"The elevators are very nice," Trowa agreed with Nichol's almost subconscious observations. While it was refreshing to have someone to respond to Nichol's comments, the dialogue also reminded Nichol of how far he'd stepped away from his comfortable mediocrity.

"This way." Trowa continued to heft the ragged bags along the corridor. The rooms followed a predictable increase in number along Nichol's right. To his left was an open balcony lit with natural light and decorated with a jungle of green plants.

"And here you are."

"Great," Nichol stared into the vast room almost unwilling to step inside.

"Is something wrong?" Trowa asked.

"No," Nichol replied hastily. "Everything is... rather grand. It's a lot to take in." He hadn't meant to say that either.

Trowa considered him briefly then went inside with the bags ahead of Nichol. "The bed is rather good, but I'd suggest using the pillows that are in the closet. Here," Trowa demonstrated. Taking one down he tested it in his hands then set it on the bed. "The bath is a little confusing at first. But you'll want to try the features, just play around until you find something that you like. They don't break. Well, if they do it gives Abdul something to do. Don't worry." Trowa guided Nichol to a small kitchen. The counters were black and the accents an unblemished chrome. "You won't need this," Trowa said. "But it looks nice, yes?"

"Yes?" Nichol nodded. "Perhaps I should eat something."

"I'm off as soon as we're finished here," Trowa suggested. "I know a great place. Definitely the taste of the City that doesn't typically advertise."

Those words got Nichol's attention. "Yes," Nichol tried to contain his eagerness. "I'd like to go there... try that. Sounds good."

Trowa's eyes narrowed as if he were a grinning fox. "Think you can find your way back to the foyer?"

Nichol rubbed his neck looking around the spacious rooms. "I'll manage somehow,"

^^^

Before his food arrived, Nichol wondered if the so-called taste of the City he should expect would be a mixture of dank atmosphere and shady ingredients. The establishment itself didn't have a proper front door or a sign. The side street that Trowa had navigated on foot looked more likely to serve vermin than humans. Nichol might have run the opposite direction except for the aroma.

At the first whiff, Nichol had begun to swallow excessively. "I want whatever that is," he had said, rumbling a little with anticipation.

Trowa's grin had split wide. "Of course."

"I have a little apartment within walking distance of the hotel," Trowa was saying as their food arrived.

"So you've always lived in the city then?" Nichol asked. He glanced around to see what sort of manners he needed to observe. When Trowa used his fingers to manage his meal, the image left a funny feeling in Nichol's stomach. He shrugged and decided the dim lighting excused almost any behavior.

"Moved here when I was little, which is much the same," Trowa confirmed. "Catherine, who you met, is my sister." Nichol recalled her bow-shaped lips and that they did resemble Trowa's somewhat--perhaps also the line of their cheek. "Oh, oh," Trowa said with some enthusiasm. "You should try this ale. It's very good."

The waitress kept their glasses filled to the brim. Nichol realized belatedly that left him with little recollection of how much he had been drinking. He leaned forward on his elbows. Trowa watched curiously, then mimicked the posture from the opposite edge.

"I don't suppose," Nichol started slowly. His tongue cooperated after a short amount of acrobatic practice in his mouth. "I don't suppose, Trowa, that you'd know..."

"Know what?" Trowa asked. He had no difficulty with his speech, Nichol noted with a furrowing of his brow. Trowa smiled fondly. He observed, "It's a strong drink and you've had quite a lot."

"Yes." Nichol's vision blurred and he blinked until it became clear again. He tried to focus on the color of Trowa's eyes. They were distinct enough to reflect the sparse lighting of the restaurant. "I came here because, I'd lost something..."

"You've lost something here?" Trowa prompted. "I thought this was your first visit to the city?"

"It is," Nichol corrected, somewhat irritated but he didn't know why. "I didn't lose something. It was someone. She, I mean. She was someone. Missing. Well, hell... I don't know. She wasn't mine any more." Nichol lost track of what he was saying and took another drink letting the glass set along his lip even after he stopped swallowing.

He collected himself, put down his ale and shifted his weight more evenly along his arms. "My ex-wife came here," Nichol tried again. This time he had it right, he was certain. "But we kept in touch. Friends, kind of. Only she stopped calling..." His head tipped forward only to have his neck pull it back up again. He was tired. The trip made him impossibly weary. He squinted to find Trowa was still there when he focused. "So she's lost."

^^^

He woke up to the sound of curtains being pulled and then the brilliant white light of the sun. Nichol rolled to find his legs tangled in the sheets of the hotel bed and a familiar person standing in profile at the window.

"I would have let you sleep, but you were very specific last night that you wanted a wake up."

Nichol recognized Trowa, but it took his mind several false starts to remember how he knew the man. He massaged his fingers into his forehead.

"I did let you lie in a little longer than we agreed," Trowa confessed. "But I must say I'm impressed by how well you recover from your alcohol."

"Russian..." Nichol muttered his automatic response. His mouth tasted foul. Then he made a connection from his earlier confusion. "You're not in uniform."

"Day off." Trowa shifted his weight revealing that he had a folder in his hand. "I've already been checking some of those leads that you had mentioned last night. Er..." Trowa ran his fingers through his hair pulling aside a foppish forelock. "This morning, last night or this morning. Morning... I bet you'd like to have a moment to clean up."

Nichol stared then relaxed his shoulders. "And then I want to see what you've uncovered."

^^^

Trowa suggested an outdoor cafe and Nichol recognized the route they'd taken to eat dinner the day prior when they crossed another street to find the last empty table. "Excellent." Trowa pulled out his chair and nearly immediately was drinking an espresso. The paperwork between them included some photographs that appeared almost to be surveillance and some pages with sections blacked out. Nichol let his eyes scan the documents but he wasn't alert enough to know what they meant.

Fortunately, his _amateur detective_ bellhop put the pieces together for Nichol with no small measure of gusto. "Which explains why he wasn't able to tell you more about her disappearance," Trowa tapped the snapshot of the police officer. "But from what I can tell Wufei's an up-and-up cop. So he'll actually report anything that he finds."

"Who's Sally... Po?" Nichol hesitated uncertain if he'd read the last name of the signature correctly.

"His partner," Trowa replied matter-of-fact.

"Of course," Nichol nodded. Then he summoned the waitress. "Something... very sweet," he instructed. "I'm having a hard time keeping up with this guy."

"You're doing great." Trowa settled into his chair more comfortably. He'd pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead, capturing his lengthy hair and causing it to fan around behind him like an unfolding peacock's tail. Nichol chuckled at the image nervously scratching at the knot of curls behind his left ear. The wind through the outdoor seating had to have made it a mess. Dorothy had always told him that the wiry curls would be impossible to control. He just didn't know how to recognize himself without them.

They sat quietly while letting the caffeine rejuvenate Nichol's muscles. At the same time, the towering architecture, the busy street and the proximity of crowds constantly traveling past them like living currents.

"I can see why she would want to be here." Nichol tilted his head back to find the little bit of sky. Even there, the traffic of the airport was noticeably evident.

"How's that?" Trowa's voice seemed farther away.

"So many interesting things to watch or see or do." He strained somewhat to swallow at the odd angle, but he kept tracking one plane until it went out of sight.

"That's an appealing image," Trowa agreed.

"And she told me that I was the one who _rushed_," Nichol grumbled, lowering his chin again. "I was just tired of not getting what I wanted."

"Oh yes," Trowa nodded as if he understood. "Sometimes it's best to move fast."

^^^

"This isn't troubling you?" Once more in the elevator, Nichol reflexively adjusted his shirt which prompted Trowa to fix Nichol's bow-tie again. "You don't have some place else where you need to be?"

Trowa brushed his fingers across the material and surveyed his handiwork. The entire outfit was new. Trowa had it brought in from somewhere. Borrowed and it fit him perfectly.

"You're the best bellhop ever," Nichol laughed. "I don't suppose you treat all the hotel guests this way?"

"Hardly," Trowa made a face.

"Well," Nichol decided. "Then I'm writing the management a lovely recommendation about you. Sure you don't need to be visiting your sister... ah, Catherine. No... girlfriend?"

Trowa waved his fingers in front of his face. "No rings, nothing to tie me down."

"Yeah well," Nichol mimicked the movement. "No rings and I'm still trying to find the little woman."

"Your ex. She isn't... you're not trying to get her back are you?" Trowa held open the door once they arrived to their destination. Nichol reminded himself the courtesies weren't anything unusual when it was Trowa's occupation after all.

"I tried a few time," Nichol admitted. "I really do care about her." Then he stopped talking to stare at the casino. He didn't know where to look first. A woman in a black suit with lace at her neck and cuffs saw Trowa and came closer but he shooed her away.

"We can find our own way around the place. Don't you agree, Nichol?" Trowa checked.

"Uh," Nichol stuttered. He found his nervous hands already fidgeting with the edge of his shirt and the tie went wrong around his neck again. He tried to put it right again, but Trowa took his hand instead.

"Leave it," Trowa shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Only one girl you're looking for tonight."

"Yeah, Dorothy gave up on my appearance a lot time ago," Nichol chuckled.

They played a few games. It seemed that Trowa gravitated toward the same simple card games that Nichol enjoyed. They found a ready table to try some blackjack. At first Nichol lost badly until he was out, but encouraged to play again on Trowa's chip brought his only victory.

"I should stop on a high point." Nichol rubbed his chin, trying to give the decision the gravity it deserved. He didn't see any clocks and referred to his wristwatch. Trowa smiled, as he kept busily checking his phone.

"I don't think they want you to get distracted from the games," Nichol joked as they gave up their seats to an elderly couple, both heavily decorated with leis of assorted colors. "Do you think we've spent enough time here that we might come across any persons of interest?"

Trowa put his phone away and for the first time since Nichol arrived, the man seemed distracted. The different expression made Trowa seem older than Nichol had originally guessed. They were more alike in age than Nichol had thought.

"If you need to go," Nichol began, although he noted a nervousness creeping into his plotting when he thought of Trowa leaving Nichol behind.

"Just business." Trowa set his arm lightly across Nichol's shoulders. "I hear this place makes a lot of money. Let's see if we can win back some more of yours. Poker?"

"Not my game." Nichol wondered why his face burned. He blushed badly. "I'm better with machines."

"Slots?" Trowa laughed. "I'd never have guessed you for that sort."

"It's straightforward, I like that," Nichol grumbled somewhat. "Tidy. Orderly."

Trowa considered that then decided, "You'd never pull a bluff with that face. You're probably right about it not being your game."

^^^

Eventually they found a place to sit and rested away from the giddy gathering of patrons around the craps tables. Nichol had regained his losses and a random turn at the roulette table put him ahead. "I can see why people would get addicted to this," Nichol said thoughtfully.

Trowa sipped his drink and nodded. "A strange pastime, but it has successfully revealed our person of interest."

"Where?" Nichol looked around.

"You're so obvious," Trowa chuckled. "Finish your drink and enjoy yourself first. We should probably consider how we handle this next part. Wufei might not have been able to help you, but we don't want to get on the wrong side of that one either. Not every game played here is legal."

Slouching, Nichol brooded over his half-empty beverage. The taste had gone from his tongue and he couldn't regain his earlier momentum. How did he think he was going to find a woman who wasn't officially missing when the most probable outcome was that she'd been taken by an illegal organization of the most sinister sort.

"What do you do for a living?" Trowa's calm question eased Nichol's mood somewhat.

"I work at a bank," Nichol answered. "Nothing too exciting. Just an eight to five."

"Just a teller, huh?" Trowa teased, reclining on his corner of their couch-like seat but he kept a drifting watch on the people around them.

"I _started_ as one," Nichol kept his reply dry. "But I didn't get much farther than that."

"A bank that I'd know?"

"Possibly," Nichol shrugged. "It's likely I've exchanged as much money as this casino, except they can't seem to pay me very well all the same."

"And I bet you knew how to invest that meager income just so you could make the trip out here," Trowa surmised. "To find your ex-wife who didn't want you anymore."

"Harsh," Nichol chuckled. "But I can't deny the truth as I know it."

"You're a good person." Trowa's comment seemed peculiar in context and strangely too close in proximity. Nichol reached for his drink to create some distance again.

^^^

"Quatre Winner," Trowa introduced Nichol as the pale man in a white suit joined them. The movement of their handshake opened the jacket enough that Nichol saw an intricately decorated pink vest underneath.

"So this is your friend," Quatre smiled generously. It didn't feel quite as genuine as Trowa's until it turned on the other man. Nichol looked at the delicate pale rose pinned at the man's designer pocket. The knot in Nichol's stomach tugged with a premonition. This man treated Trowa as more than a bellhop. Almost like a peer or a... more likely, Nichol reasoned, a lover.

He watched for Trowa's reaction which was only to nod and twist his fingers along the couch near Nichol's shoulder. The kindness, the gestures, the touches all seemed very different in hindsight. But Trowa hadn't done anything. And he wasn't the one wearing a white and pink getup either.

"Nichol?" Trowa raised an eyebrow. The movement was playful, but changed somewhat. Nichol looked back at Quatre who seemed to be waiting for answer.

"What made you believe that Dorothy had run into foul play?" Quatre repeated.

Nichol sighed, "She didn't say it in so many words. But she did say said she had an opportunity that seemed right for her. Better," he paused. "I knew Dorothy. She sounded concerned and determined--as if whatever she wanted was going to be worth the trouble."

"Then why follow her to the City?" Quatre pressed. "You're saying you came all this way because she suddenly stopped contacting you?"

"She would have found some way to tell me to shove off if that's what she wanted to tell me," Nichol insisted.

"Why did she marry you?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business," Nichol frowned. Trowa had averted his eyes and gave no guidance. Nichol's hands became like fists. "Dorothy did whatever she wanted to do. She must have felt like saying yes at the time. It just... didn't stick."

For a moment Nichol thought Quatre meant to cry, which was decidedly uncomfortable. But the next glance into the man's blue eyes showed a cold resolve. "Trowa will tell you what you need to know, Mr. Nikolai. But what I will say is that I know Dorothy Catalonia. She came to the city to be with me, and someone took her against her will around the time of your last conversation."

"What? Then why aren't the police looking for her?" Nichol's voice raised on it's own and he only settled down again when he felt Trowa's hand like a weight on his shoulder.

"Because she is one of the Numbers," Quatre replied. "And the Numbers are criminals in the eyes of the law."

"I don't understand," Nichol winced. "You're saying that Dorothy...?"

"Dorothy should be able to take care of herself. Who we're more immediately worried about is you," Quatre stated.

"Me? I'm not a criminal."

"No," Trowa chuckled. Somehow he'd shifted to be at Nichol's side. The length of his leg pressed against Nichol's. "You are most definitely not a criminal. But as Quatre brought to my attention, you are Dorothy's good friend who just so happens to work at a very very large bank..."

^^^

After being escorted back to his hotel room by Trowa, Quatre and what seemed to be a dozen not-so-stealthy bodyguards, Nichol lay on the bed and listened to the other two argue. Trowa called Quatre his childhood friend. And through the course of their conversation it became clear that Quatre owned the casino where they'd been hiding Nichol away in some what of a protected place.

Even if Quatre refused to say he was part of this Numbers organization, Nichol guessed he was mafia of some sort with that lifestyle. And he loved, or cared for Dorothy too. Which put Nichol on the same side. Except Nichol didn't mean to befriend the criminal underground. He meant to rescue Dorothy _from it._

Only she was part of it too.

"I'm telling you that if it's a ploy to get Nichol we shouldn't expose him." Trowa leaned against the wall by the window. The curtains were pulled tight again.

"Dorothy can take care of herself," Quatre agreed. "I'm still intrigued somewhat." He noticed Nichol watching. "How well do you know that bank?"

"It's been my only job, but I'm a nobody there," Nichol insisted.

"Perhaps they'd use him to get in, leave Nichol behind and the disgruntled employee is framed for the heist." Trowa uncrossed his arms at a sound and checked his phone again.

"Possibly," Quatre seemed unconvinced.

"Nichol," Trowa put his phone away. "You don't have family in the city do you?"

"Maybe. An uncle?" Nichol shrugged.

"You didn't say..."

"I'm not here for _him_." Nichol narrowed his eyes against the lingering image of the man who'd scared him so badly as a boy. After his parents died, his uncle had come to take him but Balalaika had just had her birthday and saved them both... even if she had taken off as soon as she could thereafter, he couldn't shake the feeling of having narrowly escaped a horrible situation.

"Who is it?" Quatre turned to Trowa.

"Mihailov."

"Thirty-eight." Quatre went to the door. "I'll be in touch. Nice meeting you." He made a point to give Nichol a courteous bow. Nichol fought trying to do the same and simply lifted his hand from the bed.

"So my uncle..." Nichol shifted away from where Trowa put his weight on the mattress. "Is a bad guy. Not a surprise."

"He's part of the same underground organization," Trowa nodded.

"Dorothy's in business with my uncle?" Nichol shook his head. "I don't believe it."

"The Numbers don't work that way. They're more like these individuals with the greatest levels of clandestine influence or managers of rumors. Most of them work on their own purposes on their own resources, or so I'm told."

"Like being married to someone as _rich_ as Quatre Winner," Nichol gathered. What had Dorothy gotten herself into? Trowa made an affirmative sound and lay back on the bed.

"What are you doing?" Nichol asked. If he turned his head, Trowa would be just there, on his side and watching.

"It's late. You should rest."

"Yes, I am. But what are _you_ doing?"

"Resting." Trowa let his eyes close. And as if it decided the matter, he added, "I let you have the pillow from the closet."

Positioning himself to roll away from his new friend, Nichol found that he'd lost track of his thoughts. Some reasonable question had come to the surface, but just as quickly sank into the dark of sleep.

^^^

In the morning, Nichol learned that Trowa's sleeping self had no such regard for boundaries. Untangling himself without assistance was impossible between the lean limbs of the other man and the unruly bedding.

"Hey," Nichol said quietly. "Back on your side."

Contrary in his sleep, Trowa instead adjusted his arm so that his fingers got a better grip in Nichol's hair.

"I'm not a full body pillow." Nichol tried to find some humor in the situation. He squirmed expecting the movement to finally bring Trowa to wakefulness.

"I'll keep you instead," Trowa mumbled. Or it was something like that. Nichol flinched. Trowa had bitten Nichol's ear. With a yowl, Nichol gave up on gentleness and threw himself from the bed. When he picked himself up from the floor, and it was a very nice hotel carpet to land on, Nichol saw that Trowa was rubbing his face. "Sorry... I..."

"No, it's fine. I mean," Nichol found his discarded jeans and pulled them on. "It's not _fine_, but I get it. It's okay. I'm just going to..." His shoes were on and he stumbled toward the door.

^^^

The elevator dropped him to the ground floor. Nichol crossed the lobby knowing that he must look a rumpled mess compared to the business class clientele navigating the foyer of the hotel. He pushed out the front door without waiting for the doorman, twisting so that he wouldn't be close to the familiar uniform.

"Need a cab?"

"I'm fine, thanks," Nichol answered. Fresh air was good. He _needed_ fresh air. "I'll walk."

"But the cab is waiting for you, sir." It wasn't the doorman.

Secured at his elbows, Nichol found his feet being guided to the curb. Men on either side brought him to the door while a third pushed down his head to fit inside the vehicle.

"So you're the nephew?" A woman spoke. Nichol lifted his head to see that they shared the seat. Her face was hidden behind the reflection of her glasses. Next he heard her say a name, "Aretha."

The car began to move.

"You're so much more obedient than Mihailov," the woman analyzed. "I wonder if you have his talents."

From the front, Aretha chuckled in a way that expressed doubt of that possibility. "Three wouldn't have kept him if the guest had Mihailov's _talents_..."

Nichol became more alert as the ride continued. "Are you... a Number?" he asked.

"Eleven," she introduced herself. "And for this brief time in your life, you are one of the most desired commodities in our organization. But don't worry, this will pass."

"Because of the bank?" Nichol tested. Quatre thought so. Trowa seemed to accept it. Nichol remembered the apology Trowa had offered only minutes ago. Trowa who'd given Nichol every piece of information he needed to find what had happened to Dorothy.

Before Eleven could answer, Nichol grumbled, "He's not a bellhop."

"Who?"

"Trowa is not just a bellhop," Nichol winced against the first pains of caffeine withdrawal. "He's a Number, isn't he?"

Aretha began laughing again. "He's so funny, Eleven. Can we keep him?"

_"I'll keep you instead," Trowa had mumbled._

"Trowa is one of our Number," Eleven confirmed. Then a small smile pulled her lips into a soft cheek. "And I will tell you he is not a bellhop at that hotel. He owns it."

^^^

Under the supervision of her henchmen, Nichol followed the women onto the docks and toward a yacht painted with the name _Barge_. Once on board he expected them to do something to hurt him, something harsh and like the criminal activities of the mafia. Instead they gave him a seat in a luxurious cabin fitted as an office. Aretha served coffee to Eleven and Nichol didn't turn it down when she handed him a cup.

"Your evaluation?"

Nichol looked across the room to where Eleven waited for an answer, but not from him.

"Average intelligence, average build," Aretha replied. "Unimportant in the hierachy of the bank. But I have a suspicion."

"What's that?" Nichol interjected. "What do you suspect? Do you want to know why I came to the city?"

"To save your friend," Eleven said dryly. "Heroes die every day, young man. You would not be the first to disappear on these streets."

Nichol calmed himself with that thought. Perhaps he would not have gained this much knowledge without Trowa, but it was just as possible that Trowa had stayed with Nichol for another reason as well. They'd stayed in the casino because it was Quatre's. A protected place. Where Nichol could be hidden away. He faced the irritating reality of that truth.

Aretha answered her phone, then said, "Three is here."

"Is he alone?"

"Always," Aretha confirmed with a lilting tone. Then she conveyed the affirmative answer through the phone. Holding the door open, it was only a moment before Trowa entered. He was barefoot and looked exactly as if he'd just come from bed. Nichol winced slightly at the obvious priority Trowa had given to the situation.

"Three." The seated woman motioned him to a seat, but Trowa went to Nichol instead.

"You're alright?" he asked. Even with the disarray of his appearance, this time Nichol saw the full measure of the man who'd disguised himself as a bellhop. Nichol nodded then would have said more except Eleven spoke instead.

"You should take better care of your boy if all it takes to make you heed is taking him for a short trip," she warned. "That's a significant weakness, but did you give it at no cost to the boy, Three?"

"That's not how I do things." Trowa didn't look at her.

"Oh yes, you did advocate the reform edict, for all the good that did after One disappeared," she chuckled.

"What do you want?" Trowa asked. He still kept his place standing next to Nichol and facing away from the women.

"My fondness for you wants to be sure that your boy is worthy of you. That's all." Eleven tipped her head forward. "Aretha, what test do you have for our hero? You would not know this, Nichol, but Aretha is gifted at sifting great talents into our Numbers. As well as sifting out."

"You don't have to do this," Trowa said quietly. "I will make sure that you get away, back to your home, safely."

"You work alone?" Nichol replied, watching Aretha moving furniture away from a closed door. "You disguise yourself as a bellhop at your _own hotel_. You'd protect a complete stranger..."

"This doesn't do anything to help you find Dorothy," Trowa said. "I'm not important in that. But if you do this, they'll consider you one of mine..."

"Answer me this," Nichol lifted his head. "Why did you help me? Not even a minute out of that cab and..."

"You were cute," Trowa replied.

"Ah," Nichol nodded. "I see."

Aretha had opened the door and she wheeled out a cloth covered item. The cart creaked under the weight.

"Well in that case, Three. _Trowa._ Whatever I'm supposed to call you..." Nichol tugged Trowa closer as Nichol began to whisper. "My answer's the same." Trowa chuckled as Nichol broke away after initiating a swift, hardly-happened kiss.

"No, darling," Trowa grabbed Nichol and pulled him back for a better one. "I don't just work with _anyone_. And if we eventually end up in the same bed again, you are under no circumstances allowed to get out of it before me."

"Don't celebrate too soon," Eleven reminded them that she was still watching. "My conditions are the same."

"Aretha's never been wrong before," Trowa said as if he were being reassuring. Nichol suddenly wasn't as certain.

Nichol asked, "What'm I supposed to do again?"

"Earn your place," Eleven said. "You have to be more than a bed warmer to pass this test."

Aretha already was folding the blanket. Underneath was an old fashioned safe.

^^^

"She didn't give me a time limit," Nichol muttered, ear pressed against the device. He could just barely hear the inner-workings of the lock. Until a few moments prior, Trowa had been leaning over the safe, blowing hair away from his face and watching Nichol scowlingly work his way through learning how to crack the combination.

"I wonder if you could do this to a bank vault," Trowa pondered. Eleven and Aretha had left to entertain themselves elsewhere on Barge. Apparently they had no concerns that Nichol might find another way to open the safe or that Trowa might cheat. As it was, Nichol had barely left his knees after the initial shock of their request wore off.

"I wonder what else you could do on your knees."

Nichol knew his ears were still red from lewd comments Trowa had made during the earlier hours. "Trowa, I've only known you a few days."

"But I'm helping you find Dorothy."

"Quiet." Nichol said.

"And you do find me attractive."

"That's it." Nichol didn't hesitate to open it. He knew the lock had released.

Trowa knelt at Nichol's side. "Well done, love. What's that inside?"

The distraction kept Nichol from complaining about the endearments. Inside the safe was a piece of dark colored paper. But when he pulled it out he found a photograph.

A picture of Dorothy making a peace sign over the railing of the _Barge_.

^^^

"Stop worrying so much," Dorothy had reached the limits of her patience. She turned on top of the stepping stool and several attendants' flailing arms went to work managing the full length skirt and train of the wedding dress. Dorothy continued, "He's not going to make you do anything like that. Trowa's probably the least criminal criminal you will ever meet."

Nichol chuckled as the assortment of women each pretended they didn't hear Dorothy's outburst. The city was a strange place that accepted its own peculiar customs as easily as breathing.

"But it's too fast," Nichol explained watching as Dorothy's expression changed to one of understanding. "Eventually, this will change and he won't want to _protect_ me or, what's the word I want... be my patron..."

"Danya, just because we didn't work out romantically doesn't mean I stopped loving you..." Dorothy pointed a finger at him to bridge the distance of seamstresses, thread, needles and sequins between them. "And I'm not going to forget you made such an effort to rescue me."

"Although someone beat me to that..." Nichol let his gaze shift. Quatre might not be in the Numbers, but his small army of Maganac had neatly ousted the guilty.

"Trowa's not going to drop you," Dorothy insisted.

"You can't promise me that."

"Quat's known him longer than anyone and even he says that it's worth remarking on Trowa's strange way of doing things..."

"That's not exactly comforting," Nichol gave a low chuckle.

"He had that entire Valentines Day party at the hotel _in your honor_. I think all the public declarations were his way of saying 'Hands off my Danya,'" Dorothy imitated a huffy voice.

Nichol rested. "I still say it's very strange."

Dorothy laughed toward the ceiling. "Welcome to the city."


End file.
